It's Fashion, Baby
by Scarecrowqueen
Summary: In which a pair of shoes somehow plays matchmaker, or the one in which Kurt and Puck explore their theatricality. Puck/Kurt pre-slash.


Disclaimer: Just borrowing the boys and the song for playtime, they'll be returned when I'm finished

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Kurt was halfway to his car after Glee rehearsal when he realized his Gaga shoes were still in the choir room. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he spun on his heel and marched briskly back into the school. The hallways were silent and empty, nearly all of the students and staff having already cleared out for the day. Kurt's footsteps echo oddly in the open space and he speeds up a little, hiking his book bag higher on his shoulder as he rounds the last corner. He's nearly in the doorway when he hears the simultaneous thump and curse. Stepping properly into the room, Kurt isn't sure whether to burst into laughter or tears.

Puck is sprawled ungracefully on the floor, legs and arms outstretched like he's spearheading the invention of the linoleum angel, _and he's wearing Kurt's Gaga boots!_

"If there's one scuff on those shoes Puck, I swear I'll drag you to the dumpster by your favourite appendage and toss you in myself!" Puck jerks up into a sitting position, startled, like a vampire rising from a coffin in all those old movies, lazy smirk already on his lips.

"But then the shoes would be all dirty, princess. Can't have dirty fuck-me heels, now can we?" Puck drawls, cocking a questioning eyebrow, and Kurt feels himself begin to blush a little involuntarily at the combination. Thank god he inherited his mother's quick wit; Kurt feels his chin tilting up and tastes the sarcasm before the words even form.

"I wouldn't expect a Neanderthal like you to recognize high fashion, even after tripping over it." Puck's sharp bark of laughter fills the room for a brief second, before the larger boy leans back onto one elbow and bends one knee, arranging himself in a way that's decidedly inviting.

"Oh believe me Tinkerbell, I may not know fashion, but I do know what _'fuck me'_ looks like. Now be a pal and help a guy up?" Kurt feels his blush spread further across his cheeks and onto his ears. He eyes Puck's extended hand as distastefully as he can, before huffing and setting aside his book bag. Trying to look as put-upon as possible, he crosses the room takes Puck's hand into his. Pucks hand is warm and strong, work-roughened, all wide palm and thick fingers which flex into his a little as Kurt leans back to help Puck heave himself up. The hand is barely retracted before Puck wobbles dangerously and grabs onto Kurt's biceps a little too tightly, just above his elbows. Kurt sways a little with the momentum and his hands come up automatically to Puck's forearms to help steady them. They stay that way a second or two longer than strictly necessary, and Kurt rationalizes that Puck's afraid of falling down again. When Puck finally lets go, Kurt steps back a bit to put some space between them, allowing himself a chance to breathe air that didn't smell tantalizingly like Axe and unadulterated maleness.

"So how does one walk in these damn things anyways?" Kurt discovers that looking up to Puck's face to reply requires tipping his head back a little, the platform shoes erasing the little ground Kurt had gained on the other boy with his recent growth spurt.

"What does it matter? You're taking them off. Right now, before your massive gorilla feet ruin them." Puck pouts at Kurt. No seriously, it's an honest to god pout.

"Come on, Kurty. _What it feels like for a girl_, remember?" Puck attempts some kind of little hip-shimmy, but winds up ruining the effect by flailing a little in place as his balance fails. Kurt looks at the other boy, weighing his options before deciding _to hell with it_, he's not wasting the first civil conversation he's ever had with his former tormentor and at the very least take pictures on his iPhone for later blackmail.

The walking lessons are slow going. Puck's hands are on Kurt's shoulders as they take baby steps around the room, Kurt walking backwards and murmuring advice, keeping steadying hands on Puck's self-proclaimed 'Guns.' Pucks big hands squeeze a little when he thinks he might trip, and Kurt's hands squeeze in return, and it's closer than Kurt's ever really been to another boy. Overall, it's all together too pleasant in a way, which makes Kurt both love the moment and hate himself for it, just a little.

After about fifteen minutes of stumbling and another ten of walking more confidently, Kurt steps back and watches as Puck sashays around the room like it's a catwalk, even managing a little hip-thrust and pivot before stalking back, hand still on one hip, come-hither look firmly in place. Kurt's emotions can't seem to make up their minds today, because again he finds himself torn between laughing at Puck's antics or feeling vaguely aroused. Something may have shown on his face, because Puck halts halfway back to him, wobbling a little, expression suddenly blank and unreadable. It only lasts a second though before the cheshire grin is back and suddenly Puck strikes a pose, one arm up and out, wrist cocked at angle, the hip with the hand jut out, feet spread as he begins to sing.

"_I WANT YOUR LOOOOOOOVE AND I WANT YOUR REVEEENGE, I WANT YOUR LOOOOOOVE, I DON'T WANNA BE FRIEEEEENDS"_

Kurt explodes, and he finds himself doubled over, nearly howling with laughter as Puck proceeds to shake and shimmy, occasionally striking very girly, Gaga-like poses as he powers through the last chorus, strong baritone husky and full. The whole thing is ridiculous and yet somehow Kurt feels the tightening in his gut, the same one he used to get around Finn. Kurt stops laughing as the epiphany, instead drinking in the oddly sexy sight he's been gifted, aware of his ogling but unable to tear his eyes off the hot mess/train wreck he's witnessing. Puck finally finishes, smiling a full genuine smile as he clomps his way over to the nearest chair, flopping down so hard Kurt's surprised the thing doesn't flip backward. Puck slides the shoes off, studying one intently, turning it over in his hands, and somehow the whole thing feels awkward, more awkward then when there had been touching and Kurt shuffles a little in place.

"You, um, have big feet." Puck's statement is unsure, like he's suddenly developed a Tina-sized case of the shy, and nothing at all like the confident boy he had been moments before. Kurt doesn't have a chance to respond however, as Puck is speaking again, gaining a little surety. "I mean, they fit me, almost perfectly, so I doubt I stretched them or nothing. It's just surprising, cause you're such a little guy. Anyway, y'know what they say about guys with big feet, right?" Puck hefts the shoe for emphasise as he lifts his head, cocky smirk is back home on his face, and Kurt's blushing again but his nerves are settled now that all is right in the world.

"You're not exactly somebody I want speculating about the size of my dick, thank you very much!" Puck laughs again, the same sudden noise as before as he pushes himself from the chair, padding sock-footed over to wear Kurt's standing.

"I was gonna say something about big shoes, but since you're bringing dicks into the conversation..." Puck halts right in front of Kurt, sharing his air, a vaguely baffled look on his face as he realizes that the five inches that uses to separate them has shrunk in half, and Kurt is pretty much on eye level. Puck blinks at him once, like he's seeing Kurt for real, or for the first time ever. "You're not really a little guy at all, are you?" The last sentence is so quiet it's barely more than a breath against Kurt's face, and despite not knowing whether it was an innuendo or a reference to Puck's earlier statement, he can feel the whole world freezing narrowing to just the two of them. Kurt is hyperaware of the scant inches between him and the strong chest he could just die to rest his hands on to feel the way it rises and falls with every quickened breath; of his own waist where strong, calloused hands could rest; of his lips, freshly-licked and the sudden victims of Puck's entire focus. Puck leans a little closer and Kurt stops breathing entirely, eyes fluttering shut with anticipation.

Puck's dry lips press to his cheek, just to the left corner of Kurt's mouth.

"Thanks for the lessons, babe." Puck's voice is a whisper in his ear as he draws back, studying Kurt for a split second, eyes dark, before he turns and saunters out, leaving Kurt to gather his shoes and bag with shaking hands as he desperately tries to collect his thoughts.

From down the Kurt can hears Noah's voice floating back, fading as the other boy moves further away.

"_...Ohhhhhhhhh, caught in a bad romance..." _

Kurt finds himself choking on another laugh. If Noah wanted bad romance, then he supposed it was his duty to oblige. Decision made, Kurt slung his bag over his shoulder and flounced out the door, already making plans for seduction. Oh yes, the self-appointed 'Sex Shark' wouldn't know what hit him.


End file.
